I spent a great deal of time yesterday sitting with a telephone perched between my ear and shoulder, listening to bad Muzac, waiting in queue to speak with a DNA lab customer service agent.
Typically, when I would first enter the queue, I would have 3 calls ahead of me. Their automated operator chose to inform me of this information every 22 seconds. Annoying, indeed, but not as annoying as the Muzac.
Yet the most annoying thing of all was that every 22 seconds, if I wanted to leave a voicemail, I needed to press 1. If I wanted to stay in queue, I must press any other button. Or risk being tossed into the dreaded voicemail dungeon.
So every 22 seconds, I would press a button to stay in queue.
I was rewarded with stepping forward in line, and I found myself getting antsy each time I only had one call in front of me. I was mere moments away from finding out the fate of our adoption path for one of our boys!
Or so I thought. Each time, at exactly the 10 minute mark, I was automatically placed in a generic voicemail box.
And each time, my thought was only one simple word. Which rhymes with suckers.
At some point, I figured out that I was not waiting in queue because others were talking to the customer service. I was waiting because other desperate-yet-dim adoptive parents were also waiting, hope against hope, to talk to someone who was not there.
International adoption can turn you into a determined fool, punching in those random numbers over and over again, in some sort of twisted Pavlovian joke. "Look! All we have to do is say Jump! and they will! Ha ha ha ha ha!" I can see the staff sitting around scheming at the possible ways they'll torture us desperate beings.
Because, as I have learned, Maury and Montel and Jerry really don't get those DNA tests done in an hour, either.
Ah yes, my life has become this exciting indeed. I am at the point where I am sharing, publicly, on my blog, my trials of waiting in a telephone answering queue.
But given the past few days of fender benders, flus, and split open foreheads, I gladly settle for this sort of drama, indeed.